No Amount Of Blood Loss Could Ever Make Them As Angelic As You
by The Ink Is Blood
Summary: If it wasn't for your neighbor, you would have only considered the mass murders to be just a tale made up by the media. But the saying became true, "Where his feet land, he's sure to kill." Warning: Stalking, Rape, Blood lust, Obsession, slave/Masters, Love, Mental Illnesses, Polygamy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, and Causalities.
1. And So One Became Two

The Beginning

Everyone had heard of him. _The cupcake fiend_. He was known across Europe now as the man who would reign men, women, and even children into his arms with the promise of sweets. Or at least that's what the citizens have come to believe. For with each body, there is always icing. Somewhere..._unpleasant_, I've heard.

Lately it has been rumored that the cupcake fiend has found his way into the states, although it seems that its become more of a joke than a threat. _"Oh, did you hear about the cupcake queen? I hear he's rather kinky with icing!" _Snicker. _"I've heard that he's allergic to lube. So, I suppose the icing had to do." _Chuckle.

No one ever thought that the cupcake fiend would hit so many people. In the past three days I've heard that he's already slaughtered, beaten, raped, and tortured twenty seven people.

Twenty seven families altered forever.

Not really hard to assume why the media has dubbed him a fiend, huh?

But I wonder how true the myths are. If there really is just one man out there ravaging, and killing people city by city. Bringing about sweet treats, and icing whereever he may be. _Where his feet land, he's sure to kill. _Another little "joke" many have come to find humorous. For some reason or another.

Me, I've come to believe all the rumors to be true. If only for the fact that I keep receiving cupcakes on my porch. All beautiful, but smelling of something definitely _off_. I've contacted the police several times, raided the police station as well. But they just believe it's some far off admirer. Nothing to really concern myself with.

Well, I'm concered. And this "admirer" is very well far off. Far off gone in the head if you ask me.

The Middle

You've noticed that your stalker has been leaving you more "presents" as of late.

Whoever it is, they do not bring the gifts often enough to be deemed suspicious by anyone else but yourself, but you'd say once a year is far too much. Especially considering that you've been moving constantly over these last five.

Trying to find a safe place, although by now you've noticed there may be no safe place anymore.

He keeps finding you, sending you gifts both strange and _sweet_.

A strange bittersweet, you suppose.

Cupcakes that you've never eaten but are decorated sweetly and have obviously been made with a lot of care. Notes, all filled with promises of sweet nothings and sweet everythings. Exotic flowers that you've never known to exist. Oh, and you could never forget the chocolates. Although you've never eaten one, you're sure that they would taste absolutely delicious. At least that's what the smell makes you believe anyway.

If it wasn't for the **silence**. Perhaps you would just meet this stalker, this gentleman of some sort. But, no. It's much too dangerous now for you to take such a chance.

After all, the cupcake fiend still hasn't been captured. Hell, it's been five years since the fiend had left his last mark on society. And that mark just had to be your neighbor, now didn't it?

The police found her in a state of terror. Alive but shaken. Mute yet not. They say that the emotional toil was too much on her, so they had to ship her to an anonymous mental institution. Most believe that it was the gauging of her eyes that did it, others say it was the knife left in her genitals, and the rest just think that the mere fact that she saw the devil was enough to send anyone over the ledge.

You've heard she's dead now. Good for her.

At night you dream about the fiend. What it might look like, how it might talk, why it must feed among the lives of so many, and if it has been following you aimlessly these last five years? If not, then why does it feel like it has? You've imagined that it would laugh at this question as it slowly tore your skin off. Bit by bit. Drip by drip.

But, monsters never show their true faces, right? It'd probably lie and tell you that it had. Even if it hadn't. And that it loved you, when it obviously didn't.

You kept this up, this little mindfuck on yourself, for far too long. So it shouldn't have been so surprising when an old friend from elementary had been so **insistent** that you meet her new co-worker. Telling you all about this man that would be "perfect" for you. _If perfection could ever be mantained in a relationship, that is._

A man that seemed "Nice enough", she said.

When had it become so obvious to believe that you were desperate?

You were. The loneliness inside you was about to eat you alive afterall.

But how the hell did she know?

You met him a few days later on a very awkward blind date. He seemed, "nice enough", but he was far into his delusions of heroism to be anymore than just this.

Or so you thought...

The End

She had looked both ways before she had crossed. It was something her mother had drilled into her head as they crossed the dangerous streets of New York. It was important, it was vital, it was one of the only moments she can remember of her mother actually caring about her.

So it was hard to believe that a car had struck her. Frantically zooming by, just in time to catch her while she was right in the middle of the lane.

_Nothing to see here, people, nothing at all._

At least that's what one might say if anyone else were there to see. Living in the middle of nowhere was not a good life decision for her in this moment.

Good thing she was unconscious throughout all of this, or else she may have screamed from the paralyzing agony her body was currently going through.

Broken leg, busted ribs, possibly a torn lung, and so much more.

Maybe it would have made her even more terrified if she had known that the driver of the vehicle had forced her to drink from a clear vial in her unconscious state. That he had placed her among a mountain of blankets and pillows that covered the backseat of his vehicle entirely. That instead of having a look of regret, there was only a sickening happiness.

_The Hero_, he would have you call him soon, was here to the rescue afterall.


	2. A Different Taste

You woke up with a slight headache. Although the reoccurring motion of someone rubbing your forehead was slowly soothing it away. Relaxed and warm you didn't even think of asking the person's name. Or even what had happened? Instead you allowed your eyes to stare at the man that was currently staring back. His hand never wavered, but his smile grew much wider than when you first awoke.

He had short, messy blonde hair with firm eyebrows upholding the green sapphires that were tucked away into this eyes. You were sure that he had once been a model, though the creases among his face showed that perhaps that was years ago. It didn't take away from his beauty, no, it just added onto it. Made him appear wiser, perhaps even gentler.

When you finally were ready to speak it seemed that you couldn't.

"Ssshhhh, ssshhhh poppet. Try not to use your voice. The accident left you a bit bruised and very weak." Softly he brought his hand down to your cheek, gently stroking it.

"I know you're very confused now, darling, but please try to relax. You were in a car accident a few days ago. The car struck you head on, but thank heavens you were not seriously hurt. Only some bruising, and perhaps a bit of blood loss. But nothing good old Yao couldn't fix." Smiling brightly down at you, he playfully pecked your nose.

"The man that hit you was sent to jail of course, and he's awaiting trial somewhere or another. Long story short, your in my very own personal hospital in my home, and you are going to be just fine now. You may be sore for a few months after Yao says your ready to leave, but we won't have any problems with you leaving now will we?"

Confusion etched upon your face, you grasped the man's hand, and stopped his repetitive motion.

Frowning slightly he continued, "Oh dear. I suppose the cat is out of the bag now, huh? Well, where to begin? My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I'm the son of Hogan Kirkland - the Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis. Don't worry, beautiful, that just basically means that I have the ability to do a lot of so called "immoral" things without having the punishments that come along with them. At least not yet, anyway. My father is fairly good at keeping things under-wraps so to speak." As he chuckled darkly at that, you began to pull the sheets off your form. But before you were able to even leave the bed he had already caught your hand in an unforgiving grip. "Oh poppet, now what would bring you to do a thing like that? I'm only trying to take care of you. Don't you understand that?" A shimmer of what appeared to be pain ran through his eyes as his grip began to soften greatly.

"I didn't mean to hurt you...I just didn't want you to leave. I won't hurt you, not you. Never you. Please try to understand that." Kissing your hand gently, he silently tried to will you to relax again.

"I've adored you from afar for a very _very_ long time. It began when I traveled to America for the first time five years ago. Once I saw you I knew that I had to have you. I remember it clearly..." He sighed dreamily. "You were humming so sweetly while you cooked. That little rump of yours shaking slightly going along to some invisible beat. You seemed so lovely, so _innocent_. I knew that I had to have you then. But, of course, a good tale does not come without a twist. The moment I began to court you into my arms, I was bombarded by this hideous woman. She seemed so unnatural, so unclean that I had to fix her. I offered her a pastry, just to end her own misery. But she just had to drag me into her home. And what kind of gentleman would I be if I said no? A bad one I suppose..." He wavered.

"She forced my hand into it, you know? Letting a strange man into her home, she was really asking for it, don't you agree?" He asked, patiently waiting for confirmation.

You nodded, still at his mercy.

He smiled lightly and continued, "I was just about to usher you away, when she screamed. I had only stuck a knife into her crotch...it wasn't like she hadn't had worse. I mean _really_. I knew then that if I had tried to take you, it would only end in tragedy, so I left. It was the hardest decision that I've ever made in my life, but I did it for us. I didn't want those filthy men questioning you over something that _I _did. Not then, and not now. So in return for her selfishness I plucked out both of her eyes, though I don't really consider that much of a loss for her. At least she doesn't have to look at herself anymore. That stupid, ugly hag..."

"She died." You croaked.

Flashing a toothy grin, he responded. "Oh, did she now? Suicide, then? Do you think she punctured a vein, or do you think she took the coward's coward's way out and shot back a bottle of pills? Mmmhhh definitely the latter wouldn't you agree, beautiful?" He sighed slightly.

And so you vomited. All over Arthur, all over yourself, all over this situation.

You thought that he would hit you, but he only held you closer.

"Oh darling. Did the thought of her make you sick? I'm sorry, angel. I'll never speak of her again." He promised, rubbing back your hair for several moments, he finally left the room and came back shirtless seconds later with a new nightgown and a basket.

"Here, I'll help you put this on." He sharply announced, as if talking to a toddler.

"No, no, I can do it..." You insisted weakly.

"No darling, I'll do it. It's best to let others help you while you are hurt."

Anxiously you allowed him to take the stained nightgown off of you, and he gently replaced it with the new one.

"Now, now. Don't you feel better." He gleamed cheerfully.

Picking up the basket, he laid it beside you on the bed. "Just in case you get sick again, love." He winked playfully.

"Oh, so where were we...oh that's right! After I had left that wretched witch and you, my beautiful angel, I traveled country to country being _very well behaved_. Trying desperately to keep the police off my trail, and away from you. For so long, _so_ very long, I only allowed myself to visit you once a year. Did you enjoy the gifts I left you? I did so try to keep it simple yet elegant. I made the cupcakes myself, you know." He bashfully added.

"You didn't seem to eat them though." He continued disheartened. "Did you think I would poison you? I know the cupcakes smelled a bit different, but it was only because I had left a little treat for you in them. You do like dogs, don't you?"

You vomited again, but he just stood there rubbing soothing circles across your back.

"That's right, baby, into the basket."

As you finished, he wiped away your mouth with a damp cloth, and persuaded you to lie back down. Pulling the covers under your chin, he kissed your sweaty forehead.

"I believe that's enough tonight, beautiful. Perhaps if you feel better tomorrow we can continue, but either way I'll be here." Too weak to fight, you nodded and allowed yourself to fall into unconsciousness once again.


	3. Nightmare

A quiet knock brought Arthur back to reality as he watched his treasure slumber before him. Sighing softly, he called. "You may come in."

The door opened slowly, almost cautiously as a young man emerged from behind the door. Quietly shutting it behind himself, he sat next to the British man.

"So, how is she?" Alfred asked concerned.

"Oh, she's fine. The potion worked well enough, although eventually we will have to do something about her headache. It's obviously become a source of great pain and sickness to her. She's already thrown up twice since she first awoke…" Arthur's attention drifted back to the princess before him.

"She's beautiful, huh Artie?" the American grinned happily.

"Yes, she is. I told you she would be well worth the wait."

"I guess everyone has to be right every once in a while.." Alfred drifted.

**SMACK!**

Rubbing the back of his wounded head, Alfred pouted at the elder man's action.

"Ouch Artie, that actually hurt!"

"Yeah I know. Say it again, and I'll be sure to make it worse the next time around."

"….you have your blades back again…"

"I have my blades back again. Daddy dearest doesn't want to keep me from my toys for too long. Wouldn't want me to be bored and in his presence I suppose." Arthur cheekily commented.

"…_yeah_. So, when do you think she'll wake up again?"

"Perhaps in a few hours. I highly doubt she'll be out for an entire day. I'll be here until she does, can't leave her all alone and scared now can I?"

"Hmmm…I guess not. Though if she ever were to get scared her Hero would here to save her!" Alfred proudly cheered.

Laughing softly, the British man slung his arm around the American's shoulders and brought him closer for a kiss.

"Of course. The Princess will always need her Hero to save her." Arthur breathed.

* * *

There it was. Running through the thick branches and high grasses, she desperately looked for a way out. Everywhere she ran, through mountain snow and the oceans deep, the figure was always only a few feet away. Silently mocking her for her poor attempt at liberation.

She kept running, knowing that this would be her last attempt at freedom, and pleading for someone to save her from this monster. Her monster.

Her foot caught a stern branch, and she lost her balance. Falling among the darkening grasses, she held her breath in fear. _This was it._ She told herself, crying softly at her own upcoming demise.

The figure came forth, and carefully picked up its victim in one swift movement. Having closed her eyes in terror, she did not notice that the figure was wearing a mask. Half of the mask was a cheerful character, while the other half appeared in a state of madness. The figure gently cradled the woman in one strong arm, and caressed her hair with his other hand.

The women shook with fear, but somewhere in the back of her mind she felt content. As if this figure was actually something good, and not what it really was. _A monster._

As she silently pondered this new revelation, the figure stuck its long nails into her skull. Blinding her from everything but the torturous pain. And then nothing.

**A/N: ****Just wanted to say that cheekily is a word, despite what 's spell check says. **


	4. A Good Smack To The Head

Having found a better spot to periodically snuggle and make-out on the lavish couch across from the bed, the two men didn't realize the woman had violently awoken from her slumber. Trembling the woman began to sit up among the plush pillows, sleep still prevalent in her eyes. Unaware of her current surroundings, she looked across the room. First left, then right, and finally forward.

Eyes wide, she saw her captor with another man kissing. Both seemingly unaware of her current consciousness.

Taking this as a chance to escape she dashed towards the door, slamming it open and rushing through for dear life. Running down the dark hallway she finally saw what appeared as the front door. Only inches away from freedom a hand intertwined in her hair, pulling her backwards.

Gasping in both pain and shock, she scrambled to get away from the unrelenting ligament only for the hand to pull even harder. Unwilling to give up so quickly, her eyes darted across her current surroundings. Spotting a candlestick beside her on a lone tabletop she grasped the object and swung it behind herself. A hiss echoed in her ear and suddenly the hand let go. Taking this new-found chance she darted toward the door letting go of the candlestick in lieu of freedom. Gripping the cool metal between her hands she turned the knob. _Nothing_. It was somehow locked from the outside.

Panicking she began to viciously bang on the door with her bare hands, hoping that if little else someone would hear her. But again nothing. She continued banging, afraid to turn around.

Feeling the presence sneaking closer behind her she began to scream for help, but no one came. And it only began to come closer.

Sobbing, her banging grew weaker, and she found herself hopeless. Falling to the floor, she hugged her knees, and sobbed pitifully into them. No longer aware of anything but her current demise, she did not know that the figure was right behind her.

Frowning at the shattered before him Alfred sat on the floor behind the woman, and hugged her from behind. Surprised yet still scared she did not look up at first instead sobbing harder than before. Only gripping tighter the man did not let go of the distraught woman before him. The two figures remained this way for several minutes until she found the courage to look up. Behind her was…_him. _

Bloodied dirty blond hair, and remorseful blue eyes hidden by framed glasses stared back at her.

Shocked she turned back around and moved backwards until her back hit the door. Pointing a shaky finger at the figure she croaked, "It's you." and promptly passed out.

* * *

"I suppose the head injury is worse than I thought." Arthur pondered as he dressed Alfred's wound.

Having already placed the woman back into the bed, the two made sure to chain her to it. For good measure.

Sighing sadly Alfred began, "Did you see the way she looked at me Arty? She acted like I was going to hurt her. _Her_. Of all people. _Why_, **why** would she think such a thing? I was only trying to keep her safe." Enraged he continued. "There are really bad people outside these walls. People…**people **like us. But they don't cherish her like we do, so they won't know her from the next living thing they see. They will hurt her, torture her, rape her, and even kill her Arty. Doesn't she realize that I'm just trying to protect her from it all?"

Finished with Alfred's wound, he sat himself on Alfred's lap. Kissing the young man's cheek sweetly he began. "Well, first things first love. I'm going to have to call Yao about sewing you up. I suspect you've lost quite a bit of blood as it is, and I doubt you can afford anymore. Secondly, she'll come around to understand us. But it takes time, and we've already wasted enough of it as it were, so a little more won't hurt."

"But Artie…" Alfred pouted.

"None of that. She'll come to see we love her, and perhaps then she'll understand that this is all for the best. But until then, we just have to do our best not to spook her further. So, while she's here and locked we will no longer use any force against her. Now, if for some reason she were to escape a bit of violence would be necessary, but otherwise I shall have none of it in this household. Understood?"

"Yeah…" Alfred sighed.

"Good. Now I need to go call Yao, it seems the bandages are already soaked. Oh dear, _oh dear_!" As Arthur dashed off into the next room, Alfred couldn't help but feel warm. He had no idea if it was due to the impending future, the care Arthur was showing, or the blood loss. But it was nice.


	5. Chained

Yao arrived fifteen minutes later: a medical bag in one hand and an oddly shaped present in the other. Offering the gift to Arthur, he set his bag aside and extended his arms out in anticipation. Finding no one to retrieve his coat, he eyed Arthur angrily.

"I thought she was here now. Why is she not here to take my coat?" He spat.

Laughing manically, Arthur responded. "She only arrived here a few days ago! All of which you know of. She hasn't even been conscious for longer than an hour, you wanker! How do you expect us to teach her anything nonetheless everything within that itty bitty time frame." Continuing his horrendous laugh, "You're crazier than me!"

Huffing Yao ignored the Englishman's crazed laughter, and took off his own coat. Placing it on the adjacent coat hanger, he waited patiently as Arthur's joy died down.

Once it did Yao continued. "Yes, I'm fully aware of her current prognosis. But I have seen Ivan train submissives and slaves alike within 20 minutes. A mixture of dominance, punishment, reward, and love can easily turn anyone into a cock hungry slut within such a little time frame I assure you. Now, if you don't mind I'm busy today. Please escort me to Alfred, so I may leave."

Curious to learn more about Ivan's methods yet in a bit of a time crunch himself given Alfred's current predicament, Arthur wordlessly led Yao into Alfred's location.

Finding the young man already passed out, Arthur sighed. Sad to see that the young man would not be aware of the torture he was sure to endure had he been awake.

Alfred really did love a little pain. Especially when it came to a hotheaded little woman. Arthur couldn't believe how turned on Alfred became with just one strike to the temple. It was so…_enticing_ to see. It was one of the reasons it took Alfred so long to keep up with her. He was a bit embarrassed by his _little_ problem. So much so, it took a little encouragement from Arthur in the form of a few heated words to get Alfred back on track again. But it worked.

It wasn't like Arthur couldn't have done something, no. It was just that he shouldn't have to be the bad parent all the time. It just wasn't fair. So with a flick of his wrist he had made sure Alfred understood that this little episode was all his.

Coming back from his thoughts, he watched as Yao worked gracefully on the injured man. Stitch by stitch, drop by drop, Arthur couldn't help but think how beauty Alfred was in that moment. Pale and bloody, had Yao not been there Arthur would surely have ravished him thoroughly.

_Oh well_, he wondered. _perhaps another time._

As Yao finished, Arthur realized that the gift was still in his hands. Curious he carefully began picking at the gift wrap when Yao's voice struck him.

"It's a doll. A part of Ivan's collection. He made it especially for her when she is ready to take her role. I was hoping she had already done so, but as that is not the case I will have to take the gift back. At least until she is ready. You understand, don't you Arthur?" Yao asked.

Nodding Arthur felt a bit ashamed. He had almost unwrapped a very important present for his little girl. This was her surprise, not his. Eyes focused on the floor, he felt a hand grasp his shoulder gently.

"It's okay Arthur. You're still young and new to all of this. We've all been through it. You'll both learn in time, and draw experience with each passing day. But until then, try to keep yourself controlled. If she were to see you so distraught over a doll, she might laugh. And then the road would only be even harder."

Nodding firmly, Arthur was just about to escort the Chinese man out when he heard a rustling of chains. Considering this a better time than any, he confronted Yao.

"Each time she wakes up, the first thing she does is escape. I don't know what to do anymore. I told Alfred we should just give it some time, but what if it doesn't help? What if it just makes her hate us more? I just don't know what to do anymore." Arthur sighed.

Thinking carefully Yao began, "Perhaps she needs more help than most. Usually in these situations the prospective submissive or slave gives in quickly due to a series of their own fear and hopelessness. They tend to find the situation inescapable, but later find that it is magnificent given that they are allowed the dominance that they have always subconsciously craved. But with your girl it seems that this is the exact opposite. It's nothing you've done, it's just her way. In her case it appears that she uses that same fear and hopelessness to find the courage to escape. I believe it comes from her own pride, and her current inability to give into anyone. It's rather admirable, if she weren't an obvious submissive." Yao pondered.

Desperate Arthur asked, "What can I do? I'll do anything to make her completely mine, Yao. Anything. Just please tell me what I can do…what we should do."

Nodding, Yao divulged the strategy that would surely make everything better. Or at least less bloody…in a less-good way.

**A/N: I wrote both chapters within 3 hours, and I've reread them so many times I can't see straight. But I'm so tired at the moment that I'm worried that they are still not right. I'll probably read them tomorrow and see if I need to fix anything...but for now, enjoy? Maybe. Just a little. _Tacos...yum._**


End file.
